The Quartz Kidnap
by Glastea
Summary: A Magneto planfoiling mission goes horribly wrong...
1. When the Best Laid Plans go Badly Wrong

**The Quartz Kidnap**

A/N- Well, I'd been waiting for a spark of inspiration for months for an X Men fic, and here we are. After plenty of ideas that really weren't worth it, one is finally ready to show. I hope you enjoy it.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Logan sighed. Yet another Magneto foiling mission. He'd initiated another of his plans to make mutants the dominant species. Sometimes, you had to wonder why Xavier didn't just go with the flow, but then, he had a moral code- and a conscience to boot. Sometimes, you had to just abandon these things, but it just didn't happen with him- he was too good for his own good.

Also, Mystique, as usual, was posing a problem. You could get rid of every minion under the sun, yet she'd always be there, ready to morph into any mutant that could beat you. After the third time of healing himself in a row, they definitely needed a new plan- so he regrouped with Jean, to see whether they could work something out spontaneously. Spontaneous plans were always the best type.

Around a minute later, everyone in the group had received their part of the new tactics.

Each of the four had a specific part to play- from freezing the opponent to blasting them into oblivion. It was quite simple really, and Wolverine couldn't see how on earth it could possibly go wrong. All he had to do was get the lights, whilst Jean froze the target (a certain blue, female mutant) and Storm threw a lightning blast- for some light, after which one of Cyclops' (he refused to use his real name) optical blasts would at least comatose her, possibly worse. Or that was the idea, any way. Half way across the room, there became a serious problem. The lights went off without warning. As Storm threw a bolt of lightning into the air, to get some light into the room- she knew this wasn't the plan yet, but had to light the place up, a new mutant emerged. A girl, aiming straight for Cyclops.

Throwing her hand out in front of her, the lights flickered on and off repetitively- someone had either got hold of the switch, or it was done for dramatic effect, he didn't know. All Logan could see was something red twisting around the body of the unknown mutant, suddenly moving, and manipulating itself into a coffin around the man in front of her. Trying and failing to blast the crystal away, and growling when it didn't work, Scott began to attempt smashing out of the ruby prison, but as the encasing substance grew tightly around him, spiralling to a finish just above his head, his air supply ran out. The three remaining X Men watched him fall backwards- Jean distraught, before the lights went completely.

There was a scuffle, then silence. As Storm brought some light into the room, Jean collapsed, crying. There was no one there- no evidence of the skirmish, no crystal in sight, and most disturbing for her, no sign of her fiancé. All the mutants had miraculously evaporated into seemingly mid air, taking the crystal case (with perfectly preserved, if unconscious, mutant inside) with them.

Half an hour later, Jean was still sobbing on Ororo's now thoroughly soggy shoulder, as the jet wove through the sky back to the mansion. It was surreal to Logan- he'd seen Jean as a calm person, always able to cope with the latest calamity, but apparently not. Maybe it was just that she'd lost the add-on or that seeing someone you love encased in some kind of quartz that he couldn't blast through, and then run out of air.

Then, suddenly, a thought struck him.

"I thought Cyclops' eye beam, or whatever you call it, could destroy just about everything. What happened?"

Jean looked up, realised suddenly that she wasn't fulfilling her duty as co-pilot, and pulled herself together. Buckling back into her seatbelt and controlling the steering with her telekinesis, she answered.

"Well, if it destroyed everything, how would we still be here? Scott's beam can be subdued by ruby quartz and onyx, but that's about it, I think. Which means," she said, thinking about it, "that mutant that took him earlier," she sniffed slightly, before adjusting the controls slightly, "could manipulate crystals. I don't know what they want with him, but it can't be good."

Just as she finished, a communications system crackled into life. Xavier's voice could be clearly heard and a small picture of him emerged on a screen to Logan's right. He picked up a microphone, hooking it over his ear, whilst listening to the professor's question.

"How did we do? Is everyone alright, Logan?"

"We lost Specs." The answer was clear to him, but when Xavier registered what he meant; his face became much more serious.

"You've got 10 minutes of flight left. When you get back, I want an explanation." The screen blackened, and Logan frowned. Did the professor really like Cyclops that much?


	2. Afterthoughts and Mission Plans

**The Quartz Kidnap**

A/N: This took some time to come into electronic existence, sadly, due to several factors. One was that, to make this as canon as I could, instead of making the entire thing up, I did a lot of research, which meant I had to do a complete re-write with all the new information I had. Second, I was in Norway last week, which, although it was great fun and I managed to write up the first draft of the entire story (go me!), lack of computer meant it didn't get typed up. Now, however, to the next instalment. Enjoy!

**0-0-0-0-0**

"So, Scott was somehow surrounded by this red substance?" Xavier asked. The information he was being given was full of red herrings and clues, and he was going to have to get to the bottom of it. Scott not being able to escape from this barrier seemed unlikely, but then, there was always a catch to these things.

"Yes. He tried to blast through it, but the beam was absorbed, and it was so thick he couldn't physically break himself out. What do you think it was, Professor?" Jean had, admittedly, always thought that the optical beam was there around unstoppable, but apparently not.

"Rose quartz, of course…. Eric has found Scott's weakness, and is exploiting it with another mutant's power to manipulate him to his advantage. They used the same material to capture him as we used, in a way, to create his sunglasses and fighting visor. In fact, we rely on it for our survival."

Logan was, now, officially, confused. If any of this had made sense before, it didn't now. He was just about to say something when it became apparent that the professor had caught that particular thought strand.

"Of course, you wouldn't know, Logan. I'd better give you a full explanation- a crash course, as such. It will probably serve as a good memory refresher for everyone else, too." Three chairs scraped towards the desk. Since mutation was such a varied and individual process, no one managed to remember the small yet vital details of anyone's mutation except for their own. That is a small amount of generalisation- as the Professor was like a moving database as it was concerned.

"Scott's optical beam is fuelled by light-" he began, only to be interrupted almost immediately.

"What, so the oversized scout is like a rechargeable solar battery?" Logan blurted out, only to wish he'd kept his mouth shut. As soon as the word had erupted, Storm glared at him, Xavier sighed exasperatedly, as instead of visual or vocal confirmation from Jean that he really shouldn't have said that, an ice cold jug of water unceremoniously emptied its contents all over his head. The ice cubes began to mercilessly attack his sideburns as Xavier continued.

"If you want a sum up for six year olds, yes. The light hits him and is recycled into powerful energy, so powerful that he has to get rid of it immediately through the nearest source- through his eye sockets. This optical beam is powerful enough to destroy matter, which includes killing people. There are only two materials we know of that aren't destroyed- ruby quartz and onyx- the former absorbs it, and the latter reflects it, although we're not sure why."

"And there's no way of storing this energy, or whatever it is?" Logan asked. May as well get as much information out of this as possible- might be a good taunting point later.

"Well, yes, Logan. Surely you saw him at Liberty Island. If Scott closes his eyes, he can stop the beam, and the energy builds up, waiting to be released."

"And how much of this does Magneto know?" Jean asked, dreading the answer.

"Quite a large amount." Xavier said, with a frown. "However, after Eric left the mansion for a short while, just as Scott arrived here, I was able to research more. It brought to light a fact that is very important, and doesn't help the situation much."

"What, Professor?" Storm asked. This was getting worse by the second, not helping her mood.

"Before I begin, Jean, please refrain from passively attacking Logan. I think he's learnt not to say anything like that again, and you're getting the carpet wet." The ice cubes tumbled back into the empty jug on the desk, leaving behind a slightly soggy Wolverine looking ready to kill. Mean while, the sky became a dark red as the sun peeked out from the horizon.

"Where were we? Ah, yes… Eric will, quite probably be keeping his captive somewhere dark and turgid, the usual type of thing, though specifically manufactured to keep his captive inside. What he doesn't know is, without a near constant source of light, the beam will stop for a short time, but, invariably, if my theory is correct, his body will be so used to the constant energy flow that it will need to continue going, or else have problem functioning. Quite possibly, it will take power from his personal energy stores. At the rate that his body recycles energy, this will run out quickly, and could make him comatose. We need to get in and recover him before that situation even has an opportunity of arising. I'd suggest that everyone got some rest, before rendezvous back here at 11:00 sharp. Goodnight, or morning, whatever you prefer." With that, Xavier wheeled into the next room, leaving the three mutants on the other side of the desk to their own devices.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"Oh, bugger…" Logan whacked his alarm clock, inadvertently smashing it as he jumped out of bad and grabbed the pile of clothes on the floor on the way to the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he was barging into Xavier's office, only to be greeted with a barrage of tuts.

"Well, thank you for deigning to turn up, Logan. If you would be so kind to accompany Jean, I have a job for you both." And, so half an hour later, laden with pots of white paint (Jean was levitating about 5 of them telekinetically, but was leaving Logan to lift his normally- probably in spite after last night's comments,) the pair were making their way up seemingly endless flights of stairs, to a part of the building Logan had never really noticed before, let alone travel there. Opening the door, Jean literally showed him why he'd never been to this particular part of the mansion.

The room was large, but looked like a bomb had hit it.

The walls, although painted white, looked like they'd had a flamethrower set on them- large patched were charred, revealing a red sparkling material underneath. In fact, the whole room was like this, spots of brown and red through the white. Even the furniture had the same effect- making it look like a research facility gone wrong. The red material had seemingly grown over everything, been covered in paint, and then somehow burnt off. It seemed like an eccentric hobby, even for someone who came to the mansion. "Well, the professor's taken a break from the wood panelling for a slightly stranger décor plan. Strange, but I like it- why are we painting over it?"

"Décor?" Jean asked incredulously. "No, this is called you leave a mutant who has unstable powers and no way to stop them in a room with a substance you know absorbs optical beams, but being opaque means it's only a temporary solution. We're going to make this place sterile, so we can use it when Scott comes back, in case of emergencies."

"Cyclops did this? In here? Heck, he must have been an antisocial kid, living this far away from civilization and blowing the place up."

"No, it's called he stayed here until the Professor and his associates developed ruby-quartz and the glasses. The material in here, although having the same properties, is opaque, so they had to grow a new crystal especially. We're going to sterilize the place so I can use it as a medi-base, to avoid any accidents from happening downstairs, plus the fact that Scott knows this place very well, so won't be at all surprised that he's woken up here. If you wouldn't mind…" Manipulating a paintbrush, she dipped it into the paint and began to let it brush over the nearest mark.

Logan started on some of the furniture, when something struck him. "What do you mean… accidents?" He continued to paint as Jean answered.

"If you'd managed to keep your eyes shut for three months, without major accident, and someone finds you hiding in the attic and gets you out of the danger zone, plus letting you enter a room where they know nothing much is going to get destroyed- and, if it did, no one would come down here any way so it wouldn't matter much, you would definitely succumb to temptation at least once a month. No one's perfect. However, never mind that, and get painting, I want this place spotless." Logan sighed and let himself loose on the next piece of furniture as Jean unleashed a squadron of paintbrushes to the walls.

They'd just finished painting the place and were masking themselves up ready for major sterilization when the Professor emerged on the scene, nearly choking on the paint fumes.

"Jean, please, continue. I need to speak to Logan." Logan shot a confused look at Jean as he was led out of the room, and into a side room next door, which revealed itself from behind some wood panelling.

"Ororo is waiting for you downstairs, Logan," the Professor explained. "You will be accompanying her on a rescue attempt." As he spoke, the room suddenly began to move downwards, much to Logan's shock and annoyance.

"You have a lift? I didn't have to walk all that way? This place is whacked."

"No, I have a lift for my personal use, seeing as stairs are potentially problematic for my wheelchair. However, when you get back this evening, it will probably be employed as a quick way to get your charge upstairs.

"You will be travelling to Dover, in South East England. Erik has been driving, if at an extremely fast speed, across Europe- from Russia, where we tried to thwart his plan before, destroying city after city. Since England is his logical next step, and I'm sure he'd prefer the dramatics of blowing up England's busiest port, it's best that you wait for them there, get in, get out with Scott, then bring him back here. You'd better start flying now, or you'll never get there in time, according to time differences and the like. There are a couple of new items in the jet to help you. Now, go."

With that, he let Logan leave the small room to join Storm, who pulled him to the hangar until she realised something wasn't right. "Where's Jean?" She demanded, stopping to face him.

"She's not coming." Logan replied simply.

"Then I don't have a co-pilot. We're not going to get the jet off the ground."

"You've got me," he replied, in mock sadness.

"Oh, great. That'll help. Get in then." She turned away from him and stomped up the stairs, obviously not in a good mood. Logan sighed once more. Women these days.


	3. Memories and Wire Cuts

**The Quartz Kidnap**

A/N- Ah, the joys of another chapter! Yet again, this update took longer than expected, simply because I had to do a quick rewrite of this chapter- which turned into a fan fiction trawl, and I don't know, the internet ran away with my soul once again. But, I digress. Thanks once again to reviewers, who give me hope for the future, and here's the next instalment…

**0-0-0-0-0**

Scott woke with a groan, immediately knowing that everything was wrong. He was feeling remarkably stretched, with pieces of what felt like very thin wire digging in painfully to various points- namely, (descending) his wrists, neck, various pieces across his torso and the last piece circling his ankles. The lack of feeling in his extremities wasn't entirely unexpected, but was still a bit of a reality check- he'd never been abducted before, and it was worse than he could ever have imagined.

The worst thing- in fact, his worse case scenario in any situation, was that he didn't have his visor, but his eyes were open- and no matter how hard he tried, they wouldn't shut. He didn't have control, and it scared him. A minute passed as he struggled against the invisible force, failing to beat it. One last try, yet another failure, and he drooped forward, putting more weight on the sharp metal- which was already making something dribble ominously down his arm.

"Ah, Mr. Summers, welcome back. I trust you're comfortable?" The voice, although slightly muffled, was unmistakeable. One Erik Lensherr.

Scott said nothing in reply. He didn't feel like conversing with his captor, or conforming to stereotype, for that matter.

"I'll assume you're not, which makes this all the sweeter. Your attempts to escape are futile: there is no point even trying. Just stay as you are, helping me with my plan, and I might even let you go once I'm finished."

Not even bothering to say he'd probably die first of blood loss, Scott simply (or, at least, painfully) turned his head in the vague direction of the noise to try and blow Magneto into oblivion, only to discover red light coming straight back at him. This only caused more pain as he snapped his head back to face forward and had to pull on his arms to move back, to avoid being neutralised.

"Yes, we thought you might try that. That's why we used onyx in a couple of places, instead of Charles' darling rose quartz. Trust me; everything is prepared just in case there are any… accidents. I'm afraid, my boy, that this is a case of you doing what I want until my current scheme is complete- or, alternatively, you die from loss of blood. I'll be back later, _Cyclops._" With that, a door slammed, leaving Scott alone to semi darkness and thoughts of Jean. To try and distract himself from such things, he put more effort into closing the beam off. This was, in effect, punished by the wires tightening causing him to bite his lip to avoid making a noise- although meaning a bit more blood gone; it meant that Magneto got less satisfaction out of it.

However, to pile on the agonies, a pair of doors crashed open in front of him- revealing a crowded square. This picture was stifled by screams as he had to watch the whole place reduced to rubble, including all the people, who crumbled to dust. This was his worse nightmare come true, let alone theirs, but then, he supposed they'd never imagined their demise to be that horrible. He could hear the wind rushing past him- they were moving at a spectacular speed, as more of the city was annihilated. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doors slammed shut again, and the beams were absorbed by the substance coating them once more.

This wasn't good at all. A few minutes of dim sunlight weren't going to sustain any optical activity for hours on end in the dark. Namely, he was screwed- he didn't know how much solar energy he had stored, but as for his own stocks, they were running low. This 'marvellous' plan of Magneto's had a flipside, for all parties concerned, but mainly for him, as plan thwarting could never be a bad thing. At least, not where the X-Men were concerned.

_Come on Jean. Come and find me… please…_

**0-0-0-0-0**

Xavier was inside Cerebro, worrying. He'd been sitting inside the chamber for hours now, dwelling, thinking, occasionally searching. In fact, he knew exactly where Scott was, so there was no need for him to stay there any longer, but he had. Just sitting, reflecting, on old times. Memories. To a psychic, they meant a lot, but one was pounding him at the minute. At this point, this certain memory could mean life or death for his first student, so he took time to immerse himself in it…

He was, once more, in his office, working on yet another theory. It was more disturbing than other ideas that he'd had, but it was logical, and the person it concerned needed to know. Hence, he had dragged the individual from the garage most unwillingly to tell him.

"Professor, I'm halfway through putting a major adjustment on my motorbike. Can the theory testing wait until later?" The teenager sounded exasperated, and probably for good reason. He still had grease all over his hands.

"No, we're not testing this theory- if I'm right, which I will presume I am, it would cause you to go into a coma."

"Well, that sounds like great fun. Come on then, what has your theory got to go on? We may as well get this over and done with so I can go back to inanely muttering to myself about break horsepower, or anything else mildly associated with motorcycles." Scott's sarcastic nature had set in, which Xavier knew from experience couldn't be good.

"You know all the basics, from the tertiary system converting solar energy to create the optical beam, I'm sure--" He began, only to be interrupted

"Yes, Professor, I am completely aware that I am, in essence, a human solar battery."

"That's what the theory goes on. I think that your brain will be so used to converting energy that, if you don't get enough light to sustain your mutation, it will start to take energy from your own stores, after briefly disappearing for about a minute. Hence, your body would shut down to try and conserve what it had left. So, generally, this entails keeping in the light as often as possible, or, if unable to, keeping your eyes shut. You understand?"

"Yes- keep in the light or keep your eyes shut- got it," Scott parroted back, although he seemed distracted. "Anything else mildly useful I need to know, or can I return to my previous pursuit? Ororo's probably debating how much damage she could do by now if she struck it with a lightning bolt."

"Yes, yes, go back to your grease-monkeying," Xavier replied, not entirely sure that he'd taken the information in at all. Some day he might need that, never mind whatever happened to his motorcycle. He resolved, if need be, to throw the keys of the blasted vehicle down to the bottom of the lake if he ever needed to impart other philosophical wisdom. e HHh


	4. Bystanders over the Communication Lines

**The Quartz Kidnap**

A/N: For reference, I'm using the X1 version of Cerebro, as I prefer it to the X2 version. I apologise for the lateness of this update, but I had another week away without the computer. Here goes nothing…

**0-0-0-0-0**

Jean was just finishing the transformation from charred cave to medical facility, but was having a silent fume. She'd heard the Blackbird fly off, watched it disappear into the clouds, and wasn't at all happy about it. She had just as much right, if not more, to join the attempt- that was her fiancé, for crying out loud! And, here she was, setting up a medical station- although; she would be the one sorting him out from whatever state Magneto had got him into. Putting down her final tray of equipment, she made her way back around the school to get to Xavier's office, thoughts full of hypothesis, concern, but a large bubble of anger was increasing from the pit of her stomach.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Meanwhile, Logan and Storm were making their way across the Atlantic. Although not at all happy with the situation (he hated planes at the best of times), Logan was co-piloting, plus not making that much of a mess of the job. After being told to pull yet another lever, the communication system crackled into life.

"Ororo? Is that you?" The Professor's voice sounded. He sounded weary, yet determined. Logan leant towards the speaker to answer.

"No, Ororo's has to concentrate on getting across the Atlantic without killing us. You've got me instead. What's going on?"

"Storm won't kill you. She's highly proficient in flying the plane, if not as good as-" There was a pause, which Wolverine managed to fill mentally. Cyclops. Yes, someone had mentioned air force genes in the kid, probably the reason he flew the jet every time he was in it. Xavier was still worrying over the stiff.

"Continue," Logan said testily into the speaker. No need to let emotions get in the way of the mission.

"Yes, well, you have half an hour until the Brotherhood get to Dover. Just to tell you, plus I have a contact waiting to meet you at the docks." Chuck had obviously balanced out any emotions to restore his normal calm persona.

"Ah. We're about two hours away… this could be a problem. Signing out." Logan turned to communicate the message to Storm, only to be thrust backwards with force as the X-Jet sped forwards. Apparently, she'd been listening into the conversation.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Xavier had finally extracted himself from inside Cerebro, and was seated in his office, just having finished his conversation with Logan. Still thinking, still worrying, and not the usual calm, perfectly focused Professor he was known to be. The whole ordeal had shaken him to the core- they'd never lost an X-Man to Magneto before, let alone had said mutant used for destructive purposes- including killing people. However, he was pulled out of his thought chain when someone knocked on the door. It was Jean's mental signature, and she obviously wasn't too pleased._ I should have let her go with them…_ Of course. If anyone was close to Scott, it was Jean, and she was probably even more concerned than he was.

"Anything else I can do, except for look after the students and wait?" No, definitely not happy at all. _Diplomacy, Charles, diplomacy. Best to show her why I didn't send her off rescuing. _

"Help me shepherd all our younger inhabitants off to bed, and then I'd be honoured if you'd come with me to Cerebro, Jean. All your questions will be answered in good time, I promise." Hence, the next hour was spent finding young adults in the most unlikely places- from the Rec Room, as it was known; to outside under the dock at the lake (Bobby had frozen the water for some 'private time' with Rogue.)

Meanwhile, they were answering various questions as to the whereabouts of Mr. Summers. After fixing on a story to tell (telepathically), Jean was shocked at the level of concern everyone was showing. Probably because they'd been set a hellish maths formula to learn and work on using for the week- the Professor's idea of fun. Or, maybe that they hadn't seen him around and were worried. One of the two- but, she preferred to think they were worried, but not on a scale half as high as her own pit of despair, also located in her stomach, along with the decreasing anger bubble. She could see that she wasn't the only one losing it, but everyone reacted to stress in different ways- she got angry, Scott became as sarcastic as you can get and the Professor's mind fell into turmoil. It was obvious that there was something wrong with him- not even telepathy was needed to tell that.

Finally, they were making their way down through the various corridors and floors of the institute, to the final door. Waiting for the retina scan to acknowledge the professor's existence, the silence was so tense it could cut through the air. The doors slid open, and the professor made his way down to the end of the platform, Jean following hesitantly.

"I'm sorry, Jean, but it's impossible to be a gentleman on a narrow walkway. What you're about to see may be slightly disturbing. You need to know why I didn't want you to accompany Storm and Wolverine on the rescue mission this evening." With that, the sphere became full of people, with Xavier searching through the masses for someone in colour- namely, a mutant.

"There…" he said in a pained voice. A figure came closer, until it stopped in front of them. Jean let out a gasp.

Scott was in a terrible state. Worse than she had ever imagined. She had to squint to see him, because the beam projecting from his eyes, although obviously not at full power, was very bright, making his whitewashed face even paler in the dim light. _Why can't he close them…?_ Then, she noticed it. On each eye lid, a small piece of metal was glinting, grafted on. "Why is he in such an unnatural position, Professor?" Xavier let his location bleed into view, and she let out a strangled sob. Wire. Slicing into him, at some of the major arteries. Magneto didn't care if he died or not- he didn't care about pawns. The Professor removed his helmet and wheeled backwards, not turning. When he did, there was a definite tear trickling down his cheek.

Leaving Cerebro and going back to the school in hollow silence, Jean could see why he hadn't wanted her to go. She might not like it, but strangled gasps at the wrong moment could cause the rescue attempt to go wrong, and that she couldn't have borne. There was a time and a place for such things. _Just figure out what you're going to do first. Get everything ready to go when they get back and do your bit. Just like the professor wants you to. _

With that, the pair went their separate ways, both deep in thought, back to their respective chambers. Incarcerating herself behind a closed door, Jean sat, in shock. Nothing could have prepared her for that. She went straight to the set of blood transfusions she'd put down, just in case, and attached the biggest to a tube, hanging it from a stand by the bed. Everything she'd done 'just in case' would apparently be needed. Magneto never did anything by half- all for the melodrama.


	5. A Flying Hitch

**The Quartz Kidnap**

**A/N**- Okay, dudes, I'm sorry. I screwed up big time. I'm human, hence, I completely forgot about the fic whilst on holiday, and then came home with far too much work to do to sit at the computer and relax. But, you'll be glad to know that I, Glastea, humbly present The Quartz Kidnap Chapter five. Enjoy.

**0-0-0-0-0**

25 minutes later, the Blackbird touched down next to Dover castle. Stumbling out of the jet, stomach churning, Logan swore to himself that he'd never fly again. At least, not after tonight, when everything was sorted out. After that, he could just steal the kid's motorbike and leave, get out of it before anything else happened. Meanwhile, the weather witch had something to answer for. Namely, the port was 200 feet down the cliff. Glaring at her, she sighed and the wind suddenly picked up, sending them down the white cliffs onto the side of the docks.

No way he was trusting Storm to fly ever again- whether by jet or independently.

A lone figure in a long coat and trilby was standing opposite them, on the side of the road by the dock exit. As they moved closer, the silhouetted individual started to step forwards too, raising his head slightly, and Ororo suddenly ran towards him.

"Hank! Oh, I'm so glad to see you. The Professor didn't say it was specifically you he'd asked to help us." Logan finally caught up with the pair, feeling annoyed. He didn't like being ignored.

"Yes. He said he'd mislaid one of you, and since I'm currently in negotiations with the British Government, I was available to come down and rendezvous. Who has been abducted, by the way? Charles didn't have time to give me the details. Jean's not with you, was it her?"

"No. Summers," Logan said shortly. The coated figure looked at him in shock. Ororo quickly made the introductions, and Hank was getting some serious thinking done, according to the look on his face.

"Cyclops…. This is worse than I thought- it's why half of Europe is getting destroyed, but I didn't connect the two. I just wasn't thinking…. We're participating in a rescue attempt, correct?" Both X-Men nodded, and Storm filled him in on the details. "We're going to have to get to the top of the vehicle, or around the front of the trailing piece. We won't get to the back without being disintegrated, and I'm sure that's not what Charles wants. We get in through that wall, get Cyclops out, and get back to the Blackbird as soon as possible. Agreed?" As they conferred, a ferry pulled into port, and cars began to spill out of the huge doors as they opened, pedestrians coming out of the sides of the ship.

"Brace yourselves, people." Hank ordered (he'd obviously taken the unoccupied role of team leader), "this is it. Good luck."

Another door opened, lower than the last, and a string of lorries slowly made their way out of the belly of the beast, as such. Most were large and covered in company logos, telephones numbers and the like, but the first was plain black, with tinted windows.

"Oh no, tinted windows, that's not suspicious in the least," Logan said sarcastically. Ororo sighed exasperatedly. They were making their way to the side of the truck, to try and get to it before anything happened, when the rear doors burst open, letting loose a dark red explosion, which destroyed the convoy behind it and punched a hole right through the ship.

"Well, someone's having a bad day…" Logan ran for the side of the truck, about to stick his claws into the side of it to climb on top. As wide spreading as the kid's optic beams were, they didn't rise above his eye line, so going in from above seemed to be the only plan. However, as usual, there was a problem with said plan.

A hand shot out of the front of the truck, and once again, Logan found he couldn't move. _Damn. I thought I was done with this at Liberty Island,_ he thought, as he was thrown backwards, and Mystique jumped out of the driver's seat to meet him. He hadn't liked going into hand to hand with himself the first time, let alone now. Growling, he threw himself at his opponent, and hoped that everyone else was getting on with it.

Hence, Hank had gone in for the next try. Jumping like an ape onto the side of the vehicle with a clang, he got further than Logan did- actually to the top of the lorry, no less. However, the reason they'd assumed this role to Wolverine was because of his claws, which no one else had, so he could bust the top of the truck open. Apparently, that wasn't going to work. _Oh my stars and garters, now what? _He thought as another mutant swung himself onto the roof of the vehicle. He had a green pallor to his skin, and the first thing he did was spit a fluorescent substance at him, which narrowly missed. Hank took a deep breath and charged his opponent. _Please say someone else can redeem this travesty of a situation. Come on, Ororo…_

Meanwhile, Storm was trying to work out which type of weather would be most useful in this situation. Lightning was a no-go, apparently, seeing as the truck was metal. Wind would do nothing either, as Hank was on top of the lorry battling it out with Toad- unless she could blow him off, lift the truck off the ground (minimizing the extensive damage that had already been applied to the docks) and then get into the gap between the passenger seats and Scott's location.

"Hank!" She shouted, hoping that he would hear her, "Hold on tight!" Eyes turning milky white, she lifted a hand and the wind rose once more. Slowly but surely, the automobile lifted itself into the air reluctantly, as she went with it, landing steadily behind Magneto's hiding place. And that was when everything went wrong.

Hank was clinging on for dear life as Toad plummeted off the side of the lorry, and he was getting worried. He wouldn't survive a fall at this altitude, he knew that much, and he couldn't see the next move. Something Scott did much better than he was visualizing the situation and analyzing it from all angles, deciding what to do next in seconds. He didn't realize that if he'd listened hard, he would have heard the next instruction. Scott was saying it, in the vain attempt of helping them. He'd been listening the whole time.

Who could ignore the noise? He'd felt the vehicle rise, the clanging on top and the fact that someone was behind him. But there was nothing he could do about it. He could feel the pressure fading, inside his head, and he knew what was going to happen, any second now. And as he heard the shout for retreat, he could have cried. If the beams wouldn't obliterate his tears before he could shed them. Instead, he leant forward with a gasp as the world turned from red, to shades of grey and black. Proper black.

Meanwhile, below them, Mystique and Wolverine paused briefly as the red light that had been lighting the dock went off. Logan swore (knowing what was about to happen) and took advantage of his opponent's state of shock to shove his claws into her and throw her into the freezing water. As he watched, the truck settled itself back onto the ground, Storm hopped out of the space she was in, Hank swung off the top of the lorry and the pair ran towards him.

"We're going to have to bail. Nothing we can do now," Hank explained, as he grabbed his arm and pulled him away. But he wouldn't go. Jeannie needed Scott back. Instead, he ran up to the open end of the vehicle, and jumped inside.

Scott was staring eerily straight ahead, and without glasses, visor or optic beam, his eyes were blue. Ice blue. It was sickening- he looked like a teenager, and no one with a conscience would do this to someone that young. It was all Logan could do not to gape, and he ran up to investigate further- noticing what was keeping him upright, the blood, and every little detail. Just as he sliced through the wire that was holding his neck back and started on his torso, he heard a gasp from beside him, and looked over to find Cyclops' eyes shut- each with a metallic strip over the base of the eyelid. And as he stared, he was thrown backwards, the doors slammed, and the vehicle drove away, with Mystique holding something to her stomach as she maneuvered the steering wheel.

As Ororo grabbed his arm and lifted the trio back to the Blackbird, all he could see were those blue eyes, staring out into the distance. He didn't hear the discussion with Xavier, the worried talk between Hank and Storm, just sat, staring, as Cyclops had done. Those eyes. Beautiful, haunted, ice eyes.


	6. Passing Effects

**The Quartz Kidnap**

A/N- Yay! A new chapter, finally! I'm sorry this took so long, but I've been bogged down with schoolwork (actually, that's true, not just an excuse, but I never thought I'd say it.) It's nearly there, trust me- only a couple more chapters to go. It'll all be over by November the first- I know that much. Why, you ask? NaNo WriMo! Yep, so if you're participating, do PM me. It'd be nice to hear from you. On with the show!

**0-0-0-0-0**

"You… you got to him and then left him! And this was a rescue mission? We are getting right back on the jet and going back to England, and we are going to do everything properly. He could be dead, for all you know, and it's your entire fault!" Jean was in hysterics. She didn't care that she had Logan grovelling at her feet for forgiveness, and everyone else standing around consolingly. If anything happened to Scott, she knew who she was blaming.

"But, Jeannie, the only reason I could get anywhere near him was because his beam had shut down…" This was not what Jean wanted to hear, hence, the heavy medical text she had been holding went flying into Logan's head, sending him to the floor with a heavy thump. Hands over head, the thick hardback tome kept battering into the sorry mutant, and although it wasn't doing any physical damage, it still hurt like hell. Jean however, crumpled into the floor with him, letting rip every piece of spare emotion she had out with her.

"Jean… please, stop it. You know it won't help. Tomorrow, I will send you all back to complete what you began, and stop this horrible business. If you can get to them before London is blitzed, everything should be fine. Meanwhile, I want everyone to go upstairs and _sleep_. If you have a clear head, this rescue will be a success, unlike the last attempt." No one tried to complain, just trooped upstairs, except Jean, who got up but seemed slightly lost.

"If you wish, use one of the guest rooms, Jean," the Professor said understandingly, and as he watched her walk away, he reflected on the whole affair. It had had an alarming effect on the students, who had been thoroughly shaken by the situation. It all started when Scott didn't come back, and they ended up having Hank for Maths, who would leave them all behind once they got to a certain point, unlike Mr. Summers, who would keep the fact he could do things like find the exact cube root of pi to himself. The boys were all getting withdrawal symptoms from the lack of engine grease that they usually got all over them after mechanics lessons, since they had been postponed temporarily. The general buzzing mood around the mansion had faded, and it was a downer. All because of one cardigan wearing maths teacher.

Sighing, he went into his own room for a lie down.

**0-0-0-0-0**

Meanwhile, over a thousand miles away, the X-Man everyone in Westchester was missing was feeling the same way. Admittedly, he was feeling slightly more comfortable now- he wasn't bleeding any more (had he lost that much blood? At least he wasn't dead, he supposed,) and his neck was far less restricted now, but that didn't stop his feeling of emptiness. Jean.

Was she missing him as much he was her? Had she just kept on going without him? As selfish as it felt, he preferred the latter option. He knew the students wouldn't mind- after all; he was just their homework hand-outer, and cardigan wearer when he got the chance.

He could feel the pressure building up in his temples, once again, like it had done all those years ago. Although it had been glorious release for the short time he'd been able to see without the normal shades of crimson obscuring colour, he did miss his optic blasts for the two hours or so he'd been without them. They were more a part of him than his irises, which brought him to another point. He was going to, degradingly; have to ask Logan what colour his eyes were. The normal flat shade of blue, or had his mutation altered them? He didn't know- but having an odd shade of iris would be interesting. He'd never really thought of it before, it hadn't seemed important. But, as he felt the pressure rise, he could feel any energy he had left ebbing away, slowly, surely, even achingly.

_Please, someone…. Make this stop, _he thought to himself gloomily. _ Jean… Please… Save me…_

**0-0-0-0-0**

"How long until we reach our next destination, Mystique?" Magneto asked, in spite of himself. He knew patience was the essence, but his plan was coming together so well he couldn't resist. The temptation was too strong- as was the slow flow of the traffic jam they were stuck in.

"By motorway, another three hours, give or take, Erik," She replied smoothly, looking over the mass of vehicles in front of her. "If we got a lift, it would take much less time." Erik, taking the hint, slowly lifted the lorry off the ground and over the traffic, eventually letting it land further than the jam and giving Mystique back control of the vehicle.

"An hour, give or take, Magneto," Mystique said with a smirk, changing lanes and slipping into the suburbs of London. "Straight to our target?"

"Of course, my dear. Then, I feel we have done all we can with our captive. I fear we do not know something vital about Mr. Summer's mutation, and we shall have to abandon him in a warehouse somewhere. But, we must think of that later. Our final destination draws near, and I have an old friend waiting for us in Westminster. We mustn't keep her waiting, now, must we, seeing as she is the one we have to thank for our current charge." Feeling somewhat jealous, Mystique began to look for the exit slip road she needed. Just because Crystal had managed what she had failed didn't mean Erik had to fawn over her. Just because she was young- basically just out of school, didn't make her a miracle maker. Sighing, she turned her attention back to the road.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The next morning, feeling entirely more refreshed, the X-Men gathered from different corners of the mansion to the briefing room. Sitting around the table with a terse look on her face, Jean simply turned to Hank, and asked "what's the plan?"

Hank, obviously surprised, sat down and pondered for a couple of seconds before replying. "We can safely assume that the target will be triangulating around the main features of London. Seemingly, this will include Buckingham Palace, Westminster, and various other important cultural points, as they have all over Europe. We'll have to predict their route and try and intercept the vehicle before any real damage is done. I'd hate to think that the English would get any more damage out this than truly necessary. Their ambassador is the strangest man. He can't stop calling people 'old chap' but he doesn't worry if you're blue or not. He managed to calm down the paranoia that mutants caused in England, and they're accepted more than anywhere else. I'd hate to think we'd be the end of all that."

"Well, bub, besides all the 'that Tommy's a nice chap, eh what' and whatever crap they spout, the British are a pain in the ass. Let's just get this done so I don't have to spend more time on that spit of land than necessary." Logan's awful impersonation of an English accent made everyone smile briefly, until Jean brought them back to earth by snapping a map onto the table.

"We have a London A to Z, so if they came from Dover… That's the… M20, right? Hank, get over here and try to find their route. You're better with maps than I am." Poring over the spread out piece of paper, he pulled a pencil from one of him pockets and drew circles at points spread around a small area of the centre of the map. Joining the points together, he drew a line to a large motorway, and a minute after he'd started, sat down to examine it carefully.

"Yes… that looks probable. Around an 83.54 percent likelihood, approximately. We need to ask Charles where the target is, at the minute, before we go running into anything rash. You can see how this has affected the professor- he's as worried as you are, Jean. Let's go and find him- I believe he said he'd be in Cerebro searching for Cyclops." As he finished, speak of the devil, the Professor wheeled into the room.

"Yes, I've just finished, incidentally. They're in Greenwich- no damage has been done to London yet, so I'm assuming that they've paused somewhere before resuming their run of devastation. If you go now, you should be able to catch them. I shall be in Cerebro, keeping watch, and I will be in contact with you. Good luck." With that, he turned and left the room, and they heard the lift door ding as it opened.

Feeling slightly sobered, the group headed downstairs to suit up, and as they headed to the jet, Jean took the pilot's seat.

"Jean, do you want me to take the controls? You could set up the Blackbird's medical station… just in case." Nodding, she gave up her seat and retreated to the back of the jet, taking pieces of medical equipment from a locker and strategically placing them around a flattened seat.

"Logan, please, stop staring at my ass. It's distracting." Logan turned back to face the front, bright red. Obviously he'd been projecting his thought chain.


	7. Everything Goes Reasonably to Plan

**The Quartz Kidnap**

A/N- Oh yes, a quick update! Bet you weren't expecting this, huh? Huh? You don't know how much I've deviated off the original draft now, but it's all for the best. Trust me- I had a re-read, and it was really quite bad. Thanks for reading (the end is nigh- give it another couple of chapters…), and reviewers, your constant support makes me happy. Let's get this show on the road.

Oh, before I forget, _beep beep-_ be warned of strong language- _beep beep. _Thank you for your attention.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The vehicle was speeding through London. Passers by watched in, mouths agape, as it screeched past them, only to scream as a blast of red light obliterated them. Staring out of the windows of the Blackbird, the X-Men surveyed the dismal scene. Jean had her hands over her mouth.

"Oh, Scott…. We need to get in there, as soon as possible. Hank, touch down. We can meet the truck around the next block."

"Jean… they don't have an organised blocks system in England…" Hank told her softly.

"Whatever the British equivalent is! Just land us and we'll get it over with. If he's running on borrowed power, this is dangerous. We don't know how long Magneto has been making him use his beam, and whilst it's very energy efficient, it still uses a lot over a relatively short period of time."

As soon as they had parked (conveniently next to Tower Bridge on the Thames), the group ran (or, as the case could be, floated) to where they had seen the van beforehand. As thought, it wasn't there, but Hank was still gripping his map.

"They should have gone west, in Buckingham Palace's direction. Logan, what do you smell anything?"

"Yeah, west. Shit, we'll have to be quick if we're gonna catch them."

"Storm, if you would, Buckingham Palace. It's in the centre of the city, lots of guards, you can't miss it."

The wind suddenly got up, and four mutants (kept reasonably steady by Jean's telekinesis) went flying into the air, and across the rooftops.

"Doesn't it remind you of Mary Poppins?" Jean shouted above the howls their transportation was causing.

"I don't care what the fuck Mary Poppins is, let's just get down!" Logan bellowed back. What had he thought before about this method of transport?

**0-0-0-0-0**

The X-Men caught up with their quarry. Eventually. Storm did some spectacular manoeuvring and the team managed to land on top of the moving vehicle, which eventually ground to a halt, as soon as the people inside realised that they had company. Jean was exceedingly glad about it; the earlier they got the almost inevitable fight over, the quicker they could get it all over with, and return home successful this time. Then, she could worry about more important things. Also, on a more selfish note, it was draining her to keep everyone anchored- although, with Logan, it had been no problem- Magneto was, as usual, keeping him from moving. How wonderfully convenient. Meanwhile, she was searching for any kind of response from the person below them. Whilst they weren't thinking, there was definitely brain activity, so she sent down a quiet, unobtrusive thought cautiously.

_Scott?_ This one word seemed to jumpstart his brain into action.

_Jean… no, it can't be. It's impossible. Don't get your hopes up, Summers. Stop thinking and conserve the energy you have left._ Listening to his thoughts nearly tore her apart- no hope left of rescue remained, just his usual 'well I could die, but I'm going to stick this out as long as I can' attitude, that he'd retained since the X-Men had been created, and quite possibly before that. As the vehicle ground to a halt, and as she watched five people pour out of the passenger compartment, a feeling she'd never really felt before swam over her- rage. Before anyone could do anything about it, she flicked a finger to one side, catching Mystique completely by surprise as she fell to the ground heavily, landing on her temple and consequently crashing into unconsciousness.

Logan watched the display, along with everyone else, and whistled in surprise, before jumping from his vantage point and attacking Toad. Although it had shocked him to see Jean lose control somewhat, it was helpful not to have Mystique around, meaning he could take all satisfaction into turning the green mutant before him into a pile of neatly diced toad cubes. Snarling, he went into the attack.

Storm found herself staring at one of the three remaining mutants. One, a teenager clad in an extremely tight fitting suit- possibly spandex, by the look of it (she definitely wasn't up with the times- or was it mutation related?), looked reasonably threatening yet not too taxing, so she took a deep breath and plunged into battle.

This left Jean with two choices- Magneto or the remaining female. She recognised the female one instantly, and feeling a grudge match coming on, she smiled sadistically, and went in for the kill. Literally.

Beast, watching the melee below, was deciding who to go and help. Jean seemed perfectly fine on her own, and was beating her opponent easily. Telekinesis over crystal creation any day. But it was the ferocity that the X-Woman was displaying that concerned him. She looked almost unhinged, giggling as she sent another chunk of quartz flying back to its creator, attacking with ferocity that Hank had never seen her display before. Obviously this was over Scott- she was fighting like a demon, obviously aiming to kill, not disable, as her fiancé had always taught them, and he could see the scared look on her adversaries' face even under the hood she was wearing.

Logan was doing well too- he and Toad weren't at all easily matched, but it seemed that he'd chosen him because he had qualms about fighting with girls who didn't attack him first. As he watched, three adamantium claws made their way swiftly through the green mutant's torso, which collapsed with a groan as soon as it was released from the Wolverine's grip.

That left Ororo. Looking over to her, she seemed to be slightly overwhelmed- the oddly dressed mutant she was facing was cornering her. The teenager's technique was slightly strange- she would touch something, wince, then hurl a before solid then liquid substance at Storm, who, as he watched, got a face full of the odd substance, and began to splutter. The girl seemed to be hurling custard- dilatants, maybe. Giving it another second to work out the girl's mutation (he supposed that it was replication of anything she touched, coming out through her pores somehow. Hmm… that would be interesting to study…), and he paused for the opportune moment before bounding to help his team mate.

Logan, having dispatched the annoyance he'd been faced with (although he hadn't bothered to dice it into cubes- he didn't have the patience, and all the blood could be a problem later, plus the time wasting element), headed straight over to the truck. Fight be damned, he had a reputation to rebuild, and if that meant rescuing Summers, then so be it. Luckily, Magneto had had the foresight not to waste resources and had closed his captive's eyes, making the whole job easier. Just as he bent down to slice one piece of wire, apparently one certain mutant realised what was happening and he found himself unable to move.

"Oh, for fuck's…. Jean, hurry up and get yourself in here!" Frustrated, he muttered a string of profanity that varied wildly from mild to downright obscene and waited for the cavalry to arrive.

Meanwhile, outside, Beast and Storm were discovering just how useful the ability to throw around the equivalent of custard could be. It dried quickly, stuck like nothing on earth, and there were large puddles of it all over the ground that once stood in had no wish to let you out. Storm couldn't hit her with a lightning bolt due to the walking boots she was wearing- rubber soled, completely out of place with the rest of her outfit, and the fact that she had a never ending supply of the stuff meant they were having problems. Trying and failing to wipe some of the substance off his face, Hank went in for one more try, and succeeded in knocking her backwards onto the ground, and Ororo effectively finished her off with a lightning bolt. The girl crumpled without so much of a scream.

"She's not dead, just out cold," Hank reassured his partner. "Let's go and help everyone else." Nodding, they turned, only to watch a large spike of quartz impale the hooded woman Jean was fighting. She joined the rest of the brotherhood on the ground, and the remaining X-Men, as one, sprinted back to the ominous black vehicle.

"Oh, god…" Jean steadied herself and was about to remove the wire that was encircling and entrapping their team leader, when an obviously amused voice rang out from behind her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Ms Grey. I might just have him open his eyes again, and I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen. All of Charles' darling team, dead in less than fifteen seconds. How wonderfully satisfying."

"Do yourself a favour and shut up," Jean said harshly, turning around to face him, "and it's Dr Grey, if you don't mind." With that, she gave him the same treatment as she had Mystique- Magneto's failing was that he loved to gloat, and always paused before implementing things. The rest of the team watched, once again, shocked.

"Wolverine, you take top, I'll do bottom. Be ready to catch him, and be careful." Logan found himself nodding dumbly. Anything not to infer her wrath. "Storm, go back and get the Blackbird. Hank, do something you feel is appropriate- check on the status of the Brotherhood, that'd be good. Can't have too many people here- don't want to overcrowd Scott." Leaving everyone else to it, she turned to Logan again.

Storm headed straight out, inclined her head in goodbye and was swept up by the wind, and Hank clambered out of the vehicle to see whether the intriguing girl he'd been fighting had woken up yet. She had, and as he approached, she spider scrambled back, wincing as she replicated her surroundings.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said reassuringly, reading the expression on her face. The teenager stayed silent, looking as petrified as she had beforehand. Instead of communication, she quickly drew her hands off the tarmac, grimaced as the substance pushed its way painfully out of her palms, and from a pouch on her hip withdrew a pair of gloves- the same material as the rest of her outfit. Pulling them on almost gratefully, she stood up, but collapsed as her weight was too much for her, and passed out. Hank, deciding on the spur of the moment that the poor child would need help, picked her up carefully and tried to make sure that her head didn't touch his uniform as Logan somehow floated out of the back of the lorry. Jean jumped to the ground behind him, manoeuvring the uncomfortable looking Wolverine to the floor carefully, and they waited.

Two minutes later, the familiar sound of the X-Jet landing, as well as the artificial wind created by the engine swept over them, and the black shadow landed neatly inside the grounds of Buckingham Palace. Or, at least what was left of it. Stepping over the small amount of fence that was left, the group advanced towards the jet and watched up the gangplank. Laying his charge gingerly on a seat, Hank took the co-pilot's seat as Jean advanced to the back of the passenger area and had Logan drape her worst for wear fiancée over the makeshift medical station.

"Now, leave me to it," Jean told him decisively, and giving a mock salute, he strode back to his usual seat, only to find a senseless intruder flopped in it. Sighing, he took the nearest available space with a seatbelt, and barely had time to sit down before the jet lifted into the air.

"Who's she?" He asked Hank gruffly.

"Someone who I believed needed help- who was too young to be gallivanting about with Magneto and should still be in full time education, so I'm going to take her back to the Professor, and he can assist her from there."

"What is it with you people and waifs and strays?" Logan retorted. "Did you ever think we don't want to be saved?"

"Well, if you want to leave now, do so, but it's a long drop, and I seem to remember certain Wolverines not liking heights," Hank replied smugly, and Logan had to admit, he'd been caught out.

Behind them, Jean was standing over the prostrate form of their team leader, trying to take in the full extent of the damage. By all accounts, he really should have been dead, but thankfully, there was still some life inside him- he was still breathing, although lightly, at least- although she'd felt the need to make use of an oxygen mask. Doing a quick brain scan again, it seemed he was going to be out for quite some time, but there didn't seem to be more damage to his cranium than there had been beforehand- everything was behaving as normally as it did for him (that would be everything but the part of his brain that controlled his mutation). Grimacing, she looked him up and down again before carefully removing his uniform jacket and reaching across for a large bottle of antiseptic. Come to think of it, it was a good thing he wasn't awake- this was going to sting.


	8. The Road to Recovery

**The Quartz Kidnap**

A/N: The end is nigh! Only one more chapter! I have no shame in admitting I needed to put in some of the X-Kids (I hate that term, for the record) for some relief from all the heavy stuff. If you don't know who Douglas Adams is, then you're missing out on a lot. As for the cigar, it amused me. Cue curtain!

**0-0-0-0-0**

Standing outside the lonely door at the end of the long hallway, Logan was getting restless. He and Ororo, apparently having no appropriate medicinal skills, had been forcibly removed from the whitewashed room before them so Hank and Jean could get Cyclops onto the road to recovery- plus, he'd been told if there was even a whiff of cigar smoke, said cigar would be relocated to where the sun didn't shine. Shuddering at the thought, he turned back to his female counterpart.

"How long are they gonna take? I need sleep."

"Well, go then," she replied serenely, "but it'll give me all right to tell Jean you could not care less about your team leader. She might make good of her threat with the cigar." Logan felt it best to sit tight and stay zipped for the time being.

They were heralded a couple of tense minutes later by the whoosh of a lift. Xavier wheeled through the opening doors looking extremely anxious, and without so much of a second glance at the two outside the door, he reached for the handle and entered the effectively cordoned off area.

"I don't think you should be doing that, bub," Logan called after him, "it's not gonna be pretty." Turning to Storm, who was leaning against the wall looking drawn, he shrugged, and went back to wondering how long it could take to sew someone up.

**0-0-0-0-0**

It was two hours later when the three exited the space, looking slightly more at ease, but Jean was still clinging onto her worried look with no apparent desire to let go.

"How is he?" Ororo asked quietly, approaching them and kicking Logan on her way, who had been asleep.

"He'll be fine. Eventually. Or, at least, we hope so," Jean replied, staring at the floor distractedly. Hank took it upon himself to fill in the missing gaps.

"Physically, yes, a few weeks and he'll be completely recovered. However, mentally, it's another story. Scott has been in a coma once before, and we don't know the effect that this will have on him- whether he wakes up or not, and whether his brain is even more damaged than it was previously, although we suspect not. Emotionally speaking, the impact of Magneto's actions on him could be scarring, and Cyclops' unfortunate habit of bottling emotion inside him will not help at this stage. We can only watch and wait. Meanwhile, everyone will be taking shifts to keep watch, and if anything happens, to alert Jean or Charles. It's vital that we try and keep his condition stable."

"Right, fine, who's going first?" Logan asked tersely.

"We felt Storm should. Ororo, we'll relieve you in a few hours, but I'm afraid I, Jean and Charles have something to attend to downstairs. Logan, you'll be taking her place at seven- I'll warn you now; it's not the time to have personal grudges. Goodnight."

As Ororo slipped through the door, and the three acting doctors proceeded in the lift, Logan was left to traipse through the near endless corridors to his own room, trying to make as little noise as possible, seeing as it was one o'clock in the morning.

**0-0-0-0-0**

The days passed slowly. No one got much sleep- adult wise, that is. The students were all slightly more at ease, and the general mood around the mansion had relaxed somewhat- but it was still quiet in the halls, and you could hear the echoes if anyone talked. The older students were slightly more pensive- they had worked out that Cyclops had to be back, but was probably recovering from some injury he'd received. They had all seen the news- had eventually linked everything together, and had come out with the conclusion that they weren't going to raise hell in the mansion for the next few weeks.

"Have you seen Doctor Grey? She looks, like, really worried. I guess it must be, like, really bad." Kitty was in the middle of the group in the Rec Room, who were all attempting and failing a hugely complicated algebra project that they'd been set by Hank, in a vain attempt to keep their maths skills up to scratch. Sadly, he'd neglected to realise that they hadn't done this level of work yet- it was university standard. Maybe he and Scott would find it easy, but they didn't. Bobby was whacking his head against the floorboards in hope of enlightenment, John's fingers were itching towards a copy of Playboy, and Rogue was staring at her instruction sheet and wishing it would all suddenly become apparent.

Collapsing in a heap on the floor, Jubilee said obviously, "We're screwed. I don't get this at all."

"Look at the footer. It's something from… that really good college in England. We're never going to be able to do it. Dr. McCoy must really think we can, which proves we haven't been working hard enough. I think a trip to the library is in order- we need some serious mathematical cramming," Bobby concluded.

"Ya know- he does have a good point. And we can show Mr Summers that we've actually done something whilst he's been away, other than refine our paper aeroplane technique and find out 'how to properly browse a porn magazine', John," Marie accused. John had gone a pale shade of pink, but soon regained his ability to speak.

"Yeah, let's get this over with. Then we can get back to more important things." As he stood up, gathered his papers together and went to leave the room, Jubilee whispered something to Kitty, which made them both fall about laughing. You could see his ears go crimson.

As soon as the group were outside, Logan passed through, holding (god forbid) a book, on his way to take Jean's place as observer.

"Hey, Logan! How are ya?" Marie asked, going in for a hug. She received a short one, but he removed himself from her grip with his response.

"Busy. Have fun with the Math, kid." He strode purposely up the corridor ahead of them.

"Wait, where does that corridor actually go to?" John asked curiously.

"Dunno. We've never had cause to go up there. Probably somewhere boring and not unusual in any way, shape or form," Bobby replied.

"Do you think Mr. Summers is down there? He might be well enough to help, ya know- he's got a scary thing with Math," Jubilee said thoughtfully. The five quietly followed Wolverine as he made his way through a maze of doors, muttering to himself something about elevators. However, he suddenly stopped, and sniffed the air, and turned around to a seemingly empty hallway.

"Come out, kids. You're not allowed down here. Go back to the library or something- get whatever you have to get done finished."

"We were going to, like, ask, like, Mr Summers for, like, help. We can't do this at all." Kitty told him, her nervousness portrayed in her overuse of 'likes'- one in a sentence, fair enough, but three? It made it almost common knowledge that Wolverine scared her stiff.

"Cyke ain't going to be able to help you, darlin';" he replied, looking purposely at Rogue. "Ask McCoy if you really are that desperate." Turning away, he stalked up the corridor and around the corner once more, leaving a group of hapless teenagers behind him.

"We're definitely screwed," John said decisively, voicing what he thought, but which also happened to be the tandem conclusion of the group. "Come on, let's get to the library." Turning on his heel, he led the hapless group of X-Kids away from their location and into the somewhat dusty realm of books.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"Yes Jeannie, I know the drill. I have something to try and entertain myself, I'm not going to make any unnecessary noises, and if anything happens, I'm going to mentally scream it around the mansion and give you a headache. Go and get some rest… No, Beast said he wanted you in the med-lab. Something about the kid we rescued waking up," Logan rattled off. He had had everything drummed into his head firmly now, and could recite it parrot fashion whenever needed- for some reason or another, Jean had decided that he posed the most risk to Scott's recovery.

"Can you not call people by their codenames or surnames, for once? I don't get it- everyone else manages fine, why can't you?" The question took him off guard, and he had no idea how to answer it. "Oh, wait, I know, you're in no way a gentleman and don't know how to address someone properly. I'll send someone down to relieve you in three hours, just, for God's sake, don't try and be clever and end up doing something stupid." She left him to enter the room as she took the lift directly downstairs to the proper medical station, and he slipped through a small crack in the door into the white room.

To him, it was almost like a sensory deprivation tank- the only thing that stopped it becoming so was the rhythmic beeping of various machines, hooked up to a variety of different spots on Cyclops' body.

One may as well be dead mutant. Check. Seating himself in the only armchair in the room, he opened his book (although not really into the whole reading boondoggle, he had chosen a book rather than any other kind of entertainment simply because it didn't make much noise, and he still didn't trust Jean not to make good of her threat with the cigar), and began to read the first page. Considering it was written by an English guy (one Douglas Adams), it was actually pretty good, and he began to immerse himself into the text.

That was, of course, until half an hour later, when he was just in the middle of one of Marvin's wonderfully pessimistic speeches. The quiet background noise suddenly rose into a cacophony of loud sounds- each one trying to outdo the others, until one rose over them all in tempo and volume. Although he hated to admit it, he panicked. Jumped out of his seat and stared at the seemingly lifeless figure, and then, remembering what he'd been told, screamed as loud as his mental voice could.

Jean! Something's happening and I don't know what, but it wasn't me! Get your ass up here!

Seconds later, the door burst open, speak of the devil; she entered the room, and simply said, "out." He did as he was told, and fled. Lifting the chair he had recently vacated telekinetically, she brought it as near to the bed as she could, having read the data the various machines were giving her and coming to a good conclusion. He was waking up.

Taking hold of one of his hands gently, she waited for two minutes before there was a groan. Suddenly, Scott gripped her fingers tightly, and his thumb swiped over her hand until it found her engagement ring, at which point he relaxed somewhat.

"Jean," he whispered almost indistinguishably, "Thank God…" This thereabout confirmed that his brain was working properly, which had been the least of her worries. It hadn't seemed as if any damage had to been done to it physically, except for the fall backwards he had sustained after being entombed in ruby quartz.

"It's OK, you're home. Safe and sound, or thereabout. How do you feel?"

"Like Wolverine attacked me after fifteen rounds with a barbed wire fence. Is everyone else fine- we didn't lose anyone, did we?"

"No, calm down, everyone's fine, except for you of course. I'm afraid you're going to be in bed for quite some time, plus we had to surgically remove the metal from your eyelids, so you're going to have to keep them shut for a bit."

"I'll live. Just, please, do I really need the monitors and IV still stuck in me?"

"Rest your voice, Scott." This obviously alluded to 'yes, you do, but I know best here so you're not going to argue'.


	9. The Near Literal Wrap Up

**The Quartz Kidnap**

**A/N: **Oh, how wonderfully depressing. It's the end of another multi-chaptered story, which always makes me sad- to think, this is at an end after three months of scribbling. A big thank-you to all those who reviewed and kept my spirits up- I'm afraid that, next month, all fan fiction will go on hold so I can attempt the NaNo WriMo, but I have another few days or so to get some more fic up. May I proudly present the last part of the Quartz Kidnap…

**0-0-0-0-0**

Two weeks after awakening, Scott was fully on the road to recovery- and was already bored of having to stay in bed. Propped carefully against the wall cross-legged (Jean wasn't there to tell him off for it, he didn't have any wires attached to him to be pulled out now, and it was easier to read sitting upright), he ran his index finger over the page, inwardly laughing at Arthur Dent, as he was about to have his brain taken out. For some reason, he and the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy still went very well together, as they had when he was a teenager. Idly flicking over the page, his ears pricked up as the door quietly opened.

Since he still didn't have use of his eyes yet- he had another week to go before the nostalgic moments with eye bandaging were over and he could wear his glasses again, his other senses had compensated- especially his hearing. Someone wearing a pair of walking boots had entered the room, trying not to be heard, but really failing miserably. Weighing the odds up, he selected the most likely intruder- however weird it may have seemed for them to turn up.

"Morning, Logan," he muttered, and went back to his book. Logan stopped dead. How on earth had he managed to tell it was him?

"Morning, Cyke. Brought breakfast," he replied, reasserting himself and closing the door behind him before walking across the room.

"Just leave it on the desk- I'll get around to it later." Turning the page again, he replaced his finger at the top corner and began to read again. Logan turned to him and realised that he was actually reading, and after a brief moment of confusion, put two and two together.

"You do Braille?"

"Well, I wouldn't be reading now otherwise…"

"Fair does. You know, Jeannie's going to kill ya if she comes in and finds ya not resting properly," Logan told him, taking the armchair.

"Thank you, _mother. _Jean won't know because you won't tell her. You've probably never had the wonderful feeling of climbing the walls to get out of somewhere from pure boredom." Yes, Scott was definitely back to his old self.

"Nope. Not that I know of."

"You also have a PE class to teach, I presume, so I would go now unless you really want to be late."

"Bugger. Forgot about that." He jumped up and began to walk briskly towards the door.

"Oh, and Logan?" The other man turned back to face him. "Uh… are my eyes still blue, or have they changed colour?"

"Still blue, Cyke." As he left, Scott returned to his book, glad that he hadn't been laughed at for such a mindless question.

**0-0-0-0-0**

It was eight weeks later when Jean finally allowed Scott out into mainstream school life again. He'd been itching to get back to teaching again, as something to take his mind off everything that had happened.

It had all eventually come back, and he couldn't get the events out of his head. _How many died because of me? Hundreds? Thousands? How many people's livelihoods were destroyed- their homes, their workplaces, even their schools? What did I do- should I throw myself into the lake now? _Luckily, no one else had heard any of this- his usual bottle everything up inside technique was working to full capacity, plus his mental walls were functioning entirely normally so he could shut it all off from the telepaths in the mansion. However, he was still feeling it acutely. Not the whole 'should I throw myself into the lake now' idea- that was probably more of a melodramatic gesture, as he had no intention of doing anything that rash- it would be selfish and he didn't want to think of the aftermath.

Still, it didn't dampen the feeling of being able to stride into his classroom first thing on that dreary Monday morning with a smile on his face, watching the teenagers inside sigh with obvious relief.

"Did you have fun with Dr. McCoy, or did he scar you for life?"

"I don't think I'm, like, ever going to be, like, the same again," Kitty muttered, and after casting a critical eye over what they'd been set, he reassured them that they'd never have to do anything of that ilk.

"And, back to what we were doing beforehand, I think. Bobby, if you could remind us all what the quadratic formula is…"

**0-0-0-0-0**

However, if Scott thought it was bad, Jean was feeling just the same.

Her actions that night had been fuelled by anger, and she hadn't been thinking properly. She had knocked people out and even killed someone. Watched her bleed on the floor before reaching her target. She sickened herself.

She had even taken vindictive pleasure in it at the time. She was a doctor, yet she had somewhat enjoyed causing pain. Did this turn her into a female version of Mengele- who had done experiments sometimes just for the fun of it? She was meant to save people, not kill them. She may have filled the criteria by saving someone she loved, but killing someone- not incapacitating, as she had been taught to, was having a huge impact on her. And she had all the time in the world to think about it. She didn't know who to talk to- she couldn't simply say sorry, and it didn't feel right to discuss it with the Professor or anyone else but Scott, for some reason. Although, if they were going to dissect her thought patterns, she'd want him to share his into the session, and she knew he wouldn't, willingly.

The whole idea of it was making her wake up in the middle of the night, or not even sleep at all- thank the lord for makeup, covering up bags and disguising frown lines. She knew that Scott wasn't sleeping either- she'd caught catches of what he was thinking, and it was the blame game- he was mulling as much as she was, probably more. Sadly, he hid it much better than she did- the poker face and glasses concealed all- so everyone assumed he was all over it, whilst she was constantly asked whether she was all right. If only they knew the truth of it all- two troubled faces in the middle of a mass of relieved ones.

**0-0-0-0-0**

It was that evening, whilst they were getting ready for bed, when he noticed her frowning again. Scott had known something was wrong for a couple of weeks, but hadn't had chance to ask her what it was- various bits and pieces had got in the way, and he hadn't wanted to intrude. However, now seemed a good time, but the inevitable fact that he was going to have to discuss his current mindset held him back.

Sighing, he waited until Jean came out of the bathroom, and said simply, "I hate to say this, but something's different with you, Jean. There's something wrong, isn't there? I think we need to have a thought-swapping session." She sat down beside him, took hold of his hand, and began to spill everything out.

They kept talking for hours. Everything was examined, worries and doubts were quashed, blame was passed onto others who deserved it more (also known as Magneto- who was currently in a plastic prison cell, never to be released into society) and, by 4 o'clock, when the sun began to rise, they had even managed to laugh before falling asleep.

**0-0-0-0-0**

"Has anyone seen Cyclops and Jean anywhere? They're normally downstairs by now," Xavier observed, as he wheeled up to the breakfast table. There was general dissent and the topic moved on, until half an hour later, the pair still hadn't emerged.

"Hank, go and see what they're doing. Lessons start in a quarter of an hour, and they'll be late the way this seems to be going." Sighing, Hank left the table, but returned a few minutes later smiling slightly.

"Charles, I believe you may have to excuse Scott and Jean from lessons today. They both seem to be catching up on lost sleep."

"Ah… Excellent. It seems everything may be looking up. Oh, Hank," he called, as the blue mutant left the table, "please attempt to refrain from teaching university mathematics; I've had complaints from some of the older children."

"If I must. Although it does seem as if our newest student would be perfectly able to-"

"No, Henry. You may have a new mathematician on your hands, but that doesn't mean you can push her overly- I would suggest you would wish to keep her on speaking terms, which would include not forcing her to try a final year thesis."

"Fine, fine." As lessons began that morning, it seemed that everything had taken a turn for the better.


End file.
